


even if i am fooling myself, my feelings are true .

by falsely_true



Series: tiger & bunny [3]
Category: Tiger & Bunny
Genre: Anxiety, Body Dysphoria, Confessions, Established Relationship, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt/Comfort, Impostor's Syndrome, Kinda..., M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Panic Attacks, Secret Identity, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, ivan isn't ok for alot of the fic, reader is a next ;)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:41:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25407811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsely_true/pseuds/falsely_true
Summary: even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith.if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.
Relationships: Ivan Karelin/Reader, Kaburagi T. Kotetsu & Ivan Karelin
Series: tiger & bunny [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806622
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **pairing:** origami cyclone | ivan karelin / gn!reader  
>  **genre:** hurt/comfort  
>  **a/n:** initially, this was supposed to be a simple hurt/comfort one shot with ivan, but because i never do anything in moderation this had ended up being over 10k words and so i thought that i might as well break it up into a multi-chap fic for ease of reading
> 
> i haven't written an actual fic in literally a year so i hope this is ok kasdjfk

« something on your mind, my love? »

your partner asked you, noticing that you were trying to conceal your own smile. barely missing their question as you concentrated on your own footsteps, you hesitantly lifted your gaze off of the floor and faced your partner’s inquisitive face.  
no longer hidden, they could finally see your ~~lovely~~ smile grow grander as your eyes met. with a soft voice ~~that they found equally pleasant to the expression you wore,~~ you replied:

« it’s nothing, just… _you look away sheepishly._ i guess, _you faced them once more,_ i just didn’t expect you’d still be here. visiting me, and helping me, and stuff…  
_your partner pressed their lips in a thin line._  
– that— _their voice cracked_ —i really truly am sorry for not being able to come soone—  
– i’m not mad, you know? _you quickly corrected yourself._ i’m really happy that you’re here. »

as you said that, a grateful smile graced your features. it may have been infectious as your partner soon found themselves mirroring your expression.

« of course: i’ll always be here for you. »

~~they wonder how you always manage to captivate them, how the way you smile made your features soften, how, despite everything, your eyes always seemed to be brimming with life, shining with a brilliance that never ceased to mesmerise them.~~

they shifted their attention to where your hands rested. intertwined with their own. ~~they found that they rather liked how your hands fitted with theirs.~~  
your hold would tighten and loosen every so often as you relearned how to walk, ~~and they found that the warmth from such a contact comforted them.~~

your partner smiled absentmindedly.

taking the silence as a cue, you shifted your attention back to the floor.  
they were about to leave you back to your musing and allow you to concentrate in the comfortable silence, but it seemed like gravity—and your own joints—had different ideas as your legs buckled under you, causing you to trip with a small yelp.

reflexes allowing them to quickly jump into action, your partner adjusted their hold to catch and steady you before you fell.  
shakily, you slowly pulled yourself back up, hissing slightly as pain shot up your legs.

« now i’m really glad you’re here, otherwise i would’ve made out with the floor. _you joked between winces._ »

were it not for the tightness of your grip on them, your partner would find your reaction to be worryingly blasé as they fret over your general well being.  
« are you okay ? – i’ll live ! ». however, before they could continue giving you a once over, they heard a sound that is all too familiar to them: a telltale beeping which could only mean that agnes was about to inform them that some incident had arisen and that she required their presence. 

your partner quickly removed their hands from you to cover their wristband « bonjour her— » just in time to muffle agnes. your partner winced slightly, hoping you didn’t hear the notification. the sudden movement nearly made you stumble once more, but thankfully enough, you brushed it off and simply peered at them in confusion.  
you kept watching them, your expression a silent question your partner knew they couldn’t answer. it became unbearably clear that ~~the comfort they derived from~~ your gaze suddenly became the source of a previously ignored anxiety.  
it filled them with a sudden nervousness which made their hands shake and their skin cold and clammy.

the both of you remained at a standstill as your partner tried to find an excuse while you waited for them to elaborate for their sudden alarmed demeanor.

their uneasiness must’ve been noticeable as you decided to break the silence and voice your concern:  
« taylor, are you ok? is everything alright? »

_‘keep it together.’ they thought. ‘don’t mess up now, ivan.’_

« y-yeah, i’m… it’s nothing, don’t worry... »

“taylor” took a few hesitant step back before continuing:  
« hey, u-um, look… something came up and i’ve got to dash… think you’ll be alright without me, love? »  
his attempt to make light of the situation only gave him an uncertain « uhuh. » from your part. he wanted to continue to apologise to you, but time was running short and it wouldn’t do any good if you saw his communicator. the hero just hopes his own apprehension to leaving you conveyed how sorry he was.

as he was about to run off, you called out to him:  
« stay safe at work, ok?  
_ivan can’t help but feel like there was something else behind your plain well wishes; something he can’t decipher, but he tried not to linger on that thought for too long._  
– i’ll be careful! _he glanced back and caught your piercing eyes. were they always like that?_ i’ll come visit as soon as i can alright? »

ivan tells himself that he’ll come clean the next time he sees you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehe, so yes, ivan is impersonating reader's ex... "taylor"...  
> i made their name, and general identity, be ambiguous. i'm not here to assume anyone's romantic orientation.
> 
> also, kinda slow-ish start...? the ivan x reader stuff picks up by chap 2-ish?
> 
> * * *
> 
> *lower-case letters are intentional  
> *english is not my first language--i apologise for any mistakes i failed to correct  
> *i write dialogues slightly differently than what you'd usually find because that is what i'm used to using in the french system--i apologise in advance for any confusion i may cause  
> *like my work? consider leaving a comment or kudo // buying me a coffee // checking out my other stuff


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yes, this fic is drastically different from what i usually do, because it's more dialogue heavy? i hope i nailed the kotetsu moral fagging,,,, and that the flashbacks aren't too confusing ;w;

eyeing his surroundings, ivan let his shoulders drop—he doesn’t really know whether it’s from exhaustion or melancholy; probably both.

the floor was quiet: devoid of the usual whirring machinery, animated banter, or even just the pitter patters that would point to the presence of another soul in the room. any signs of life.  
the floor was quiet, almost eerily so, though his tiredness and anxiety may have also played a part in this desolate atmosphere. all he could hear was his all-too-loud heartbeat thumping in his ear, pulsing in his head.

the blond sighed. he could’ve done without the migraine.

it seemed he was the last person in the gym, the other heroes having already gone home, though in hindsight that was to be expected. glancing at the wall mounted clock revealed that it was rather late in the evening.  
he must’ve lost track of time, he figured. don’t know how or when. probably got lost in his thoughts, at some point during break…? he forgot what he was doing. can’t recall what he was even thinking about in the first place.

he’s been rather dazed these few days.

« you’ve been out of it these few days. » blue rose had mentioned… at some point. the days just sort of blend in together. something about the lights being on but nobody’s home?

the hero was committed with his career. honestly, he was. his thoughts have just been preoccupied elsewhere these past few weeks…

probably just stress.

dejectedly, the blond plopped himself on a bench and exhaled deeply.

« that was a pretty incredible sigh. d’you have something on your mind?  
_ivan jumped slightly, not expecting to be addressed. so he wasn’t alone…_  
– oh, tiger-san… »

he considered the older man’s silent invitation with furrowed brows. he might as well, he thought, seeing as kotetsu was willing to listen. besides, his senior always seemed to know the solution to all his dilemmas; it would help him getting this off his chest.

« it’s… i’ve just been preoccupied with something… _right! you, telling you the truth… where does he even begin explaining this to kotetsu?_  
do you remember when i was assigned to visit patients at the sternbild general hospital? after that mess with maverick...  
– uh, you were paired with dragon kid during that charity campaign, right? _kotetsu completed after a moment.  
ivan nodded in confirmation._  
– at the time we were just tasked to help the medical team where we could, and socialise with the patients. boost their spirit. you know, like delivering flowers and doing inventory.  
at some point we had to do some damage control after a visitor left rather violently.  
_he paused._  
i saw them when they left, and it seemed that they must’ve had a pretty bad breakup or a big disagreement with… _he decided it was best to just omit your name…_ their partner.  
the blond kept his gaze down as he fiddled with his fingers.  
their partner was admitted in inpatient care, and they seemed pretty depressed after the incident. »

> the second time ivan had met you was during his scheduled visits, and he had recognised you from that incident with the disorderly visitor. he remembered how despondent you were when he came to greet patients in your ward. 
> 
> the blond distinctly remembers that day: dragon kid was told to visit those in the pediatric unit while he was to visit and cheer for those in the rehabilitation ward. 
> 
> despite only briefly, you lit up when the hero visited you, accepting the flowers with a warm if forced smile.  
>  he noted that you didn’t do much of anything but look out your window absentmindedly or stare at the wall in front of you. it wasn’t like there was anyone else to interact with in your room, seeing as you had been lucky enough to get a single patient room, and you didn’t seem interested in turning the tv on anytime soon. you had just kept to yourself, preferring to just isolate yourself in your own sorrow. ivan doesn’t think that you ever went outside your room except during physical therapy, in which you were doing very little progress. he understands that one shouldn’t expect to progress very quickly or thrive immediately after the first session—seeing as he was in your place once, wheelchair bound after the failed infiltration in jake’s hideout—but you didn’t seem to improve much, if at all.  
>  the hero had grown worried for your condition and found himself visiting you a few more time during the campaign, hoping to be able to cheer you up by playing up his outgoing and enthusiastic persona—after all, if it weren’t for the other heroes’ unending support and encouragements lifting his spirits, he doubts he would’ve recovered as fast as he did. he hoped that he could make you happier, and in turn help you recover faster.
> 
> he hoped he could cheer you up, and it seemed like he did. just a little bit. though you returned to being morose shortly after, the young man’s presence brought a smile to your face and his shenanigans often made you chuckle. he had come to appreciate your laughter, and he hoped that they were all genuine.  
>  the thought of making you happier pushed him to continue visiting you every so often, and that was when you opened up to him, allowing him to learn more about you. even if he couldn’t divulge much about himself as origami cyclone, you had allowed yourself to speak freely with him. that was how he learnt things like how you had just recently been moved from the surgical unit to the rehabilitation ward and had to go through physical therapy before you could be discharged, how your favourite colour was green, how you were majoring in east asian studies, how your favourite animal was the fox. random trivia about you that he found endearing, details he committed to memory for reasons that were beyond him.
> 
> but he knows he was just a temporary distraction for you.

for some reason, he wanted to continue helping you get better. he wanted to see you happy.

the hero remembers his thoughts that day: that there had to be a way. a way to help you. help you feel better. if his lowly self couldn’t do it, then…?

> he remembers when he first stepped in as your former lover (after giving himself a lengthy encouragement to combat his nerves at the door), second guessing himself every step he took closer to your bed, where you had laid listlessly. how were you going to react? the blond hoped you’d take it well… but on second thought, you could’ve gotten angry. maybe you didn’t want to see him. after all, your former lover had wronged you. maybe your despondency had been due to self-loathing and not due to feeling their loss. it wouldn’t do any good if he had accidentally distressed you.
> 
> but it was too late to back away now… right?
> 
> ivan wasn’t surprised to find that the room remained as immaculate and undisturbed as the last time he had entered: the tv remained off, untouched stacks of books, wilted flowers and get-well-soon cards uncared for. ivan would even wager that your phone hadn’t moved from the same spot since he first met you and was just collecting dust.
> 
> the door clicked as it always did when he entered the room, but you had ignored the visitor to continue gazing placidly out the window. you remained lethargic.  
>  even as the footsteps got closer to you, you showed no indication that you acknowledged the presence.
> 
> even when he stood beside you, only centimetres away.
> 
> your clothes along with your undisturbed blanket, covering your lower half, were white, much like marble, while soft golden light bathed you.  
>  the way the fabric and tissues rippled gently, a testament of how little you had moved since he last saw you, the way they flowed and the way the golden sunlight gave it a brilliant lustre, gave you an ethereal nature.
> 
> like a sculpture of a beautiful sorrow.
> 
> alarmingly, were it not for the rising and falling of your chest, he would’ve assumed that you had passed.
> 
> thankfully, you hadn’t, and so with what little courage he had left, he finally spoke up.
> 
> « hey, i’m back… sorry i couldn’t get by sooner. »
> 
> almost like a switch had been flipped, your spiritless form breathed life and you quickly snapped to face the owner of a familiar voice. the instantaneous change in energy had caught him slightly off guard. ivan was worried you may have given yourself a whiplash, with how fast you had jolted upwards to look at him.
> 
> neither of you said a word, both of you too stunned to speak.
> 
> you had sat up, your body rigid as your hands rested uselessly on your lap. almost as if you’ve just observed a ghost, your eyes were wide and your mouth agape. not quite believing your eye, you continued to stare at him in disbelief and tried to find your words to convey all the thoughts racing in your head: happiness, anger, gratefulness, frustration, relief, hurt, shock.  
>  the blond wasn’t any better at making the first move, petrified in place, not knowing what to make of your reaction. were you happy to see him? did you want him to leave? he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know if he should say anything in the first place in case his words may cause you more distress. ivan looked equally as stunned as you were, the tension making him instinctively draw his arms up.
> 
> the hero didn’t know what to do with himself: you were at an arm length away from him. what should he do? hold your hand? embrace you? should he even do anything?
> 
> « taylor?!! »
> 
> your voice was a hushed whisper, almost as if you were scared that your words would cause the mirage in front of you to disappear.
> 
> « you came back... ? _your voice was quiet, not quite believing your eyes._ is that really you? are you really back?! _your voice soon picked up as you grew more assured that you weren’t dreaming._ where were you?  
>  – i was… i had a lot going on and… _he scrambled for an excuse but your actions cut him off._ »
> 
> he didn’t know what he expected, but he wasn’t expecting you to reach out and embrace him tightly, your arms hooked along his waist as if you were holding onto a lifeline. the sudden display of affection made him tense up, but after a moment of hesitation he mustered the courage to wrap his own arms around you.  
>  you had clutched his shirt tightly as you buried your face in his chest, concealing your expression and muffling your voice.  
>  he was sure that you could have heard, felt, his heart thumping wildly—he hopes you don’t pay it any mind.
> 
> « i missed you so much… » you had said into his chest.
> 
> reluctantly peeling yourself off of him, you lifted your eyes to finally meet his and somehow the thought of making eye contact with you renewed his sense of anxiety. what if you found out? what if you knew? he remembers telling himself how it was impossible for you to find any differences between himself and the real taylor, but that didn’t ease his anxiety.  
>  you had cupped his cheek and he remembered how he tried to keep himself from freaking out. butterflies were running amok in his stomach: he often heard how it was supposed to be a fluttery sensation that one got when they were around their beloved, but surely it couldn’t be this unpleasant? his heart was racing and he couldn’t focus—this didn’t feel any different from his nervous breakdowns.
> 
> the main difference was the warmth on the side of his face. slowly, almost mechanically, ivan brought his hand up to place it atop your own. almost like it has always belonged there. he realised how soft your hands were, even with the callouses along your palm, and that he rather liked the feel of your skin on his. was your touch always this pleasant? he leaned into the contact, reveling in the warmth it stirred within him.  
>  the comfort he drew from it was worth the initial uneasiness he had experienced. despite his wildly beating heart and the lump in his throat, he allowed himself to relax enough to lean into your touch and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.
> 
> « you could’v— _you paused as your brows knit in slight confusion._ you could’ve called or left a message... »
> 
> your voice had dropped as you said so. he remembers chalking it up to you being disappointed that he, or rather taylor, never contacted you after their disruptive exit. everything is ok. there was no way you could’ve found out. however, even as you move your thumb to caress his cheek, you continued to look sad.  
>  you weren’t exactly asking a question, though your jaw clenched as if you were trying to figure him out. ivan figured you were waiting for an explanation. would you believe him? the blond figured that his nervousness caused him to start seeing things, as he briefly imagined your eyes shining a bright azure. there wasn’t any reason for you to be suspicious of him. everything is ok.  
>  ivan shook it off and hoped his tone conveyed his repentance as he comforted you:  
>  « i- i’m really sorry i didn’t contact you sooner... i lost my phone and… »
> 
> you had a tight smile that seemed bittersweet as you shook your head.  
>  « it’s… it’s just water under the bridge... »  
>  ivan encountered a brief sense of loss as your fingers slipped away from his. you had retracted your hand and he remembered mourning the loss of your contact, hesitantly letting go of it, though he was happy enough to return the hug that you initiated once more. the renewed closeness allowed you to hide your face into the crook of his neck.  
>  « i’m just glad you’re here. »
> 
> he had hoped that he had made you happy that day.
> 
> were you relieved? suspicious? disheartened? he couldn’t discern the tone in which you said that.
> 
> though he would find out soon after.

« i continued visiting them for the rest of the campaign’s duration, to cheer them up. i wanted to help them get better and motivate them to continue with their physical therapy.  
so after it had ended i thought that it would help if i visited them… as their partner…  
_ivan’s fidgeting stopped abruptly, waiting for the other hero’s response._  
– i see… _the blond was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on him, and fought to keep his anxiety at bay._ so you continued meeting them after the campaign had ended?  
_the younger hero nodded to confirm once more._  
– how long... were you planning on visiting them as that person? »

ivan opened his mouth to answer, but immediately closed it back once he realised he didn’t actually have an answer. it dawned on him that he never made up his mind as to when and how he’d stop meeting you. the day after you were discharged? some time after? and how? by pretending to break up with you (though in a gentler fashion than how it actually happened)? just stop coming? that seemed much too cruel.

it’s true, he’d have to put an end to this soon: he couldn’t continue meeting you under this ruse. it would ultimately cause problems were the real taylor caught them or heard about them. besides, being a hero made this elaborate ploy even trickier to organise. the proof was right there: just recently he almost slipped.

« i’m sure i don’t know all the details so maybe i shouldn’t say, but i don’t think you should use your abilities this way.  
_kotetsu continued._  
don’t you think it’s unfair to hide the truth from them?  
_ivan flinches at the question._  
– i-i know that i’m just lying to them by pretending to be their ex… but i don’t know any other way to comfort them…  
for the most part, things have been going well: they’ve gotten much better and things have been well between us… despite.  
_the blond frowns, knowing full well his words sound like nothing more than excuses to justify and keep pretending to be your ex. but truthfully, he had come to enjoy your company and was rather distraught at the thought of having to stop meeting you._  
– but if that were the case don’t you think they’d rather see you?  
_the older hero queried. ivan just shook his head._  
you guys got along well so i’m sure they’d wanna meet you, not as their ex, not as a hero, but as yourself.  
– why would they? _his purple eyes shifted, downcast._ sure, as a hero i can pretend to be a better and more useful person than i actually am, like back at the hospital… but in reality i’m just a pathetic nobody. i’m not someone worth associating with...  
– you may have been wearing someone else’s face, but the person they’ve gotten closer to is you, isn’t it? you’re the person they enjoy spending time with, so even if you told them the truth, nothing about your relationship will change.  
_kotetsu paused for a moment._  
there’s no way to tell what they’re thinking or how they’ll react, but the longer you keep it a secret the harder it will be to come clean. »

the older of the two turned to face his junior:  
« it’s okay to be scared, but that’s why you take action instead of pondering the what-ifs and should’ves. so you don’t regret it in the future.

they deserve to know, so you gotta face them. »


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know that ivan's peak depression and garbage self-esteem is pre-episode 8, and after that he's actually fine and coping ok thanks to the power of friendship  
> but let's pretend that ,,, 2020 is hitting ivan hard, he keeps getting cucked by that one sekiro boss, and he's second guessing himself

he decided that he’ll tell you once you were released.

the door leading to your room opened with a marked click, announcing anytime a person entered (or exited) the room.

this time was no different. the door clicked as ivan quietly stepped inside.

he’ll have to ask you when you could be discharged, didn’t he?

though not quite taking your eyes off of your book, you shifted your head slightly to where the sound came from, notifying him that you were listening.

« hey, i’m back… sorry i couldn’t get by sooner. »

this time, you took your eyes off of the pages to answer him:  
« it’s really not an issue, _you reassured him,_ don’t force yourself if you’re too busy okay? »

he blinked. the hero can’t help being unnerved: something about the way you said that made it seem as if you could see through him. for the past few weeks that he has known you, he has a nagging feeling that you know more than you let on, but frustratingly enough he still couldn’t figure out what’s between the lines.

probably just his paranoia.

he has learnt that you were, for the most part, an honest and straightforward person: if you had something to say, you’ll tell him—so the blond brushed his hypervigilance to his job as hero.

« still… i can’t help but feel bad… _he smiled apologetically._  
– i know, i know... _you conceded._ »

ivan gently placed a humble bouquet of lily-of-the-valley, which he had come to learn was your favourite flower, on the table and seated himself besides you.  
book dog-eared and put away, you let your hand settle in his, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his. a warm smile crept on your face as you felt his thumb stroke the back of your hand.

« just, i don’t want you to worry. _you turned to look to where he sat._ i’d still live even if you don’t visit every few days. _a soft laugh escaped you._ »

you’ve changed, he noticed. you’re different.

you looked much happier. you smiled, genuinely smiled, and laughed, genuinely laughed, a lot more. your eyes were clear and focused, instead of the bleary, tear-soaked eyes he had come to associate with you.

you were much more animate than you were. animate in every sense of the word: yes, you were doing better in rehab, but you’ve started doing more outside of that. you were slowly, but surely, going through your abandoned stack of books. even though you were not that big of a fan of watching tv, he has caught you turning the fixture on a few times to serve as white noise as you read, tuning in to whatever was being broadcasted at the time. occasionally, you’ve even ventured outside your room to visit the hospital garden.  
you were much easier to talk to. you were more open and easy going. you’ve even started interacting with the hospital staff. he found himself being able to hold full conversations with you instead of the flat monosyllabic replies he had expected.

lively. lively was the word to describe you now.

> he recalls your first few interactions since his appearance. they were all lukewarm at best. were you always this unapproachable? this cold? what had happened to your warmth? he remembers asking himself that. the hero supposes it’s normal… he was disguised as someone who had hurt you. perhaps even humiliated you in front of all the staff present at the time, including he and dragon kid. so your behaviour was to be expected: after the relief of having your partner back, you probably remembered your own anger. the cold shoulder was to be expected.  
>  he tried his best to be patient with you, not letting your poorly hidden glare and scrutiny get to him. but even so, he would shiver at the thought of being watched. never before had he felt so much so like a prey pursued by a raptor.
> 
> the blond tried his best to coax you out of your impenetrable shell, doing his best to appear empathetic and appease you.  
>  if it would help you lighten up, then he’d willingly take the brunt of your hatred.
> 
> once in a while, he’d try to get you to speak, to no avail. you’d either ignore him, scowling, or whisper out a terse response. ivan tried not to get discouraged, he really did, but it was hard to do when ~~the object of his affection,~~ ~~the person he cared for,~~ the person he wanted to help rejected him with such disdain and pushed him away so coldly.
> 
> « how are you f— _he started._  
>  – why are you here? _but you had brashly interrupted him._ why do you keep visiting me? what are you trying to prove? _you spat, venom laced in your voice._ »  
>  in your ire, you clenched your blanket tightly, until your knuckles turned white.
> 
> ivan was visibly taken aback by your slew of spiteful questions, and by your seemingly irreparable distrust. he doesn’t like the darkness in your eyes. much less at the thought that it was directed at him. he hesitated to answer, afraid that the wrong word could set your already agitated self off. _‘calm down, ivan. they’re not mad at you. he told himself. they’re mad the person you’re impersonating._
> 
> he swallowed, throat dry:  
>  « i don’t… what do you mean? _he tilted his head, crushed._ i’m not trying to prove anything, i was just worried about you. _he hoped his tone conveyed the sincerity in his words._ i’m really sorry i hurt you, i… i wasn’t thinking straight and i hurt you in the process. _he shook his head in repentance._ if i’ve humiliated you in any way, i’m really sorry. i really am. please believe me when i say that i care about you. _he pleaded._ »
> 
> it seemed that his earnest response had caught you off guard, having sat up straight up. for the first time in a long while, he found that you had properly turned to face him. you had unclenched your hands, and your eyes were wide. any trace of resentment had disappeared, in its stead was genuine surprise. as if not quite believing his words, you squinted in his direction as you went over his words again.
> 
> « you’re… not lying? » came your slow and incredulous response, voice having lost every trace of anger. there was no tension in the way you said it, innocent without any signs otherwise.
> 
> were you astonished by his response… why?
> 
> what did you mean by that?
> 
> it wasn’t a question directed at him, and more like a statement. a realisation. but still he moved to answer you, to redeem himself before your eyes.
> 
> « of course not… why would— i have no reason to lie to you… »
> 
> wrong answer.
> 
> he had to stop himself from wincing as you frowned, sceptical. you retracted your gaze from him and returned to quietly gaze out of the window.
> 
> he got the memo that the conversation had ended, that you didn’t want to elaborate nor continue. so he left. feeling at a loss after your tense exchange.
> 
> but even so, he came back a few days later, to your very apparent surprise.

even if your first few days with him as “taylor” were shaky, he was glad that he never gave up: having come to look forward to spending time in your company. instead of the solemn and wary person he had been introduced to, there was a warm and approachable person in its place. instead of the suspicious and closed off person he had to deal with, you’ve shown yourself to be a frank and honest, if sometimes candid, person.

> when he returned, the door clicked as he entered, and your reaction was instantaneous:  
>  « you came back. »
> 
> was it a statement? was it a question? he couldn’t make the tone in which you said that, but you hadn’t sounded angry as you did the last time, so he considered that he was still in the clear. maybe you were stupefied that he still came back after your vitriolic interrogation.  
>  for better or for worse, neither of you spoke much that day. ivan didn’t know what to say, while you remain as silent as you always were, fiddling with your sleeve. the tension was still omnipresent, but it didn’t feel as oppressive.  
>  it didn’t feel like a single misstep would send you over the edge. neither of you tried to meet each other’s eyes, but it almost felt like your avoidance was due to your chagrin at your past actions. your eyebrows knitted in contrition and you tapped your fingers absentmindedly on the sheets.
> 
> ivan sighed. he had decided to call it a day, happy enough to see that you were still alive and doing more or less ok. the young man wondered if he always felt this tired. he had stepped off to leave when you spoke up on your own initiative:  
>  « i’m sorry. »
> 
> your voice had been small, and he probably wouldn’t have heard it if the room wasn’t so depressingly silent. but despite the meekness of your own voice, your sincerity came through.
> 
> « i’m sorry. _you said again, this time louder._ i shouldn’t have been so crass… with you. »  
>  your expression was twisted in penitence.  
>  « i assumed the worst out of the situation when you’ve been nothing but accommodating with me. _you paused._ despite your good intentions, i continued to make disparaging remarks about you. i’m really sorry… »
> 
> without realising it, the blond had walked back over to your bed and started on his side of the apology, which he stuttered out:  
>  « i… it was… i deserved it, for making you upset… »
> 
> you smiled, but it didn't reach your eyes, almost like you tried to allow yourself to believe a well-intentioned lie, but couldn’t. you smiled and said nothing, moving instead to hold his hand tenderly in yours as a peace treaty.  
>  « if…. you can find it in your heart to forgive me, i would like to start over and give **you** a chance. _you met his eyes, and he was relieved to see that they did not hold a single strand of malice. rather, you smiled. smiled so earnestly it hurt his heart._ thank you so much for coming back. »

ever since, you’ve even started cracking your own jokes and no longer scrutinised his words seriously, almost as if you were trying to dissect each one of them. he happily listens to you jabber on about the new book you read, what you happened to have heard in passing while conversing with the medical staff or while being idle in the garden, and what was discussed on the news. anything. and he listened happily. because if you were talking, it meant you were happy. if you were happy, then it meant that you were hopefully getting better.

like night and day. from dispirited to lively.

he’s happy seeing you thriving.

even if he was lying to you by pretending to be your lover, he told himself it was worth it. it made you happy. it helped you. he’s helping you. this ruse is only done in good faith.  
if it were to make you smile, if it were to help you brighten up, then all his lies and deceptions could be forgiven, he rationalised.

« **a successful rescue! as expected from the king of heroes: barnaby brooks jr!** »

the announcer emphatically shouted.  
that train of thought halted, and ivan’s eyes flicked to the screen in the corner of the room.

_‘must be a rerun from yesterday’s arrest.’ he mused, as the tv quickly changed camera, showcasing the past event in all its chaotic glory._

« he’s incredible isn’t he?  
_your voice drew his attention back to you and he tilted his head._  
– barnaby? _his voice wavered._ »

it was an innocuous statement, but somehow the blond felt his heart crack a little. barnaby deserved to be crowned the king of heroes: he was strong, reliable, confident, everything he was not. barnaby’s power can be used to help people, unlike his. it made sense that he would be the hero everyone favoured, including you.  
go figure, seeing as barnaby was also very popular back at the academy.  
in a stroke of selfishness that made him hate himself, ivan had hoped that, somehow, he would’ve been your favourite hero. but there wasn’t any chance of that being true if he were realistic. he should’ve known better. despite his best efforts, he never really did manage to do more. to pull his weight. he blended in the background, with a passivity not befitting a hero.

unknowingly, he let out a heavy sigh. if only he were better. if only he were more like barnaby, or the other heroes. if only he were marginally as incorruptible as wild tiger, as self-assured as blue rose, as resilient as fire emblem, as steadfast as sky high, as tireless as dragon kid, as tenacious as rock bison.  
if only he were better. if only he were someone else, but him.

someone who could genuinely make you happier without having to disguise himself as somebody else.

he teared his eyes away from you to look elsewhere as he responded:  
« yeah, he’s really amazing.  
_he hoped his voice didn’t betray how disheartened he was. the blond wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.  
you tilted your head quizzically._  
– i admit, he and his partner are quite enjoyable to watch. _was it possible for his heart to drop even lower?_ but they’re not who i’m referring to. _you completed with a chuckle._  
– oh? _he asked, half curious and half worried._  
– i was actually, um, _it was your turn to be sheepish, faltering, as you meet his eyes._ talking about origami cyclone…  
_it actually took him a few moments before it registered in his head that you were talking about him, though it only filled him with more confusion when he did._  
– but why? _he asked incredulously._  
– but why not? _you parroted with a laugh._ i think his kabuki themed costume is pretty cool… it must be super intricate! _you remembered when you saw it in person, how you found yourself fawning over it and its design._ not to mention, his ability is also super impressive! can you imagine? he can camouflage himself anywhere!  
– but he’s not much of a hero… _he mumbled._ what could he do with that kind of ability? besides, all he does is just stay in the background…  
– **photobombing like a pro, as usual we can see origami cyclone lurking in the background!** _with oddly perfect timing, the host cuts in to announce the points origami had gathered (or lack thereof)._ **despite revving up his ad appeal, he has not earned any points!**  
_acting as if the announcement helped ivan make his point, he resumed avoiding your eyes, focusing on the one tile that suddenly looked very interesting._ »

sensing the prolonged silence, ivan gave up expecting a response from your part. he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. he’s scared of what you might say, but he’s equally as terrified of the implication of your silence.

« so what if he stays in the background? _your resolute tone caught him off guard, and he peered at you with wide eyes._ i don’t think that makes him any less of a hero than the rest. _your conviction astounded him._  
he’s able to help and contribute in ways the other heroes can’t. sure, maybe in terms of strength he couldn’t compare to, say, wild tiger, but during a recon mission or in situations where one is required to sneak into an enemy territory he would excel above every other hero.  
he’s not a power type next and he can’t control the elements, so it wouldn’t be fair to compare him to what barnaby could do with his hundred power or what blue rose could do with her ice manipulation. it would be like comparing a cat’s ability to fly with those of a bird.

besides, i’m sure there’s something only origami can do!

_you took a small moment to choose your words, contemplating whether you should continue or not, but after a small pause, you decided to do so. this time, however, your voice was much smaller. he would even qualify it as timid._

when, um… after our fight, he came over to visit me. i mean, i know it was probably some planned activity for the campaign, but… it still made me happy, regardless. and even after that, he kept checking up on me during the rest of the event, trying to cheer me up and make me laugh with his antics. tried to get me talking, you know? _you shook your head._ i guess my miserable self must’ve been very obvious… _you laughed dryly._  
i applaud him for bearing with me for such a long time: i must’ve been such a pain to deal with **during the first few days**. i admit i felt a little bad taking up his time like that, but for what it’s worth he managed to lift my spirits and his visits made my day just a little brighter.

so even if it doesn’t seem like he’s doing much on herotv, i believe that he’s a kind, and loyal person—the type who wouldn’t easily abandon or give up on others. and i think that **that** is what makes him a real hero, not points on a tv show. »

« i’m sorry, that must’ve been very corny… _you scratched the back of your neck._ »

it took him a moment to fully process what you had just said, and took the blond another to fully consider your words. a part of him didn’t—couldn’t—believe you: there was no way you thought that way about a loser like him, right? but a grateful smile bloomed on his face, nonetheless.

« huh… _he acknowledged._ yeah… _he agreed._ i guess you’re right, love. _even so, he allowed himself to believe your words._ »

you hummed happily, pleased at winning this “argument”, and took to rest your head on his shoulder.  
he had gotten used to your affectionate nature, no longer finding himself flustered beyond words when you shifted closer to him and leaned into his side, nestling yourself comfortably within his arms. willingly, he wrapped his arms around your middle and carefully laced his fingers with yours. he let out a content sigh. his hand fitted perfectly around yours. you nuzzled his hair. there was no one else he’d rather be with, he belonged with you.  
your presence brought peace to his mind, your words always managing to reassure his turbulent thoughts and ease away his anxieties. truthfully, your presence comforted him in ways he couldn’t understand.

he wonders when you stopped needing him and he started needing you.

it’s hardly the right place to consider it, but he wished he could just capture and relive this one perfect moment—you, in his arms, humming a charming tune, stopping once in a while whenever you wanted to share an interesting trivia encountered during your reading. him, cradling you, watching over you quietly, attentively listening to what you said while he reveled in the time he got to share with you—over and over again.  
he wished he could stay in this one perfect, idyllic, moment and continue pretending.

close his eyes and pretend.

pretend everything was alright. pretend that this is where he belonged. pretend that he wasn’t lying to you. pretend that this was right.

but he was here to make sure of something right?

« oh, and by the way, do you know when you’ll be released?  
– hmm? _ivan didn’t like the jarring silence that followed when you halted your humming._ ...oh. _your voice sounded disappointed and you seemed hesitant to tell him the truth._ well, if everything went well they said i could go home tomorrow morning or afternoon. »

tomorrow?

« oh. » ivan responded, his voice tinted with a finality that concerned you.

he had decided that he’ll tell you once you were released, didn’t he?

he’d have to tell you the truth by tomorrow.

« but look taylor, it’s not all bad! _you sensed that the mood had shifted downwards and you tried to lift it back up._ once we’re out of here you can help me pick out a cane that’ll match with my style, maybe a colour that brings out my eyes.  
– yeah… »

he tried to sound enthused, but he doesn’t think that he fooled you. if you weren’t, you didn’t say anything.

the conversation had died out, and neither of you were particularly keen on trying to resuscitate it, so you both simply appreciated each other’s presence in a comfortable silence. or at least tried to.

this was a much harder feat for taylor, consumed by their own thoughts.

“taylor”. that’s what you called them. but wait, no, he was ivan.

that’s right, he’s disguised as your past lover wasn’t he? so yes, he was called taylor. that was the right name to call him by.

but he wondered how his name would sound with your enchanting voice. my name is ivan. he needs to tell you the truth. please say it?

oh god he needed to tell you the truth didn’t he?

he wanted to pretend that the person you were spending so much time with and pouring your heart to was him. he wished the skin you kissed were his, the hair you’d run your fingers through were his, the person you derived so much comfort from was him, the name coming from your lips were his.

but that wasn’t the case, was it? this wasn’t him. the skin you kissed wasn't his. the hair you played with wasn't his. the person that always made you happier wasn’t him. the name you called adoringly wasn’t his.  
the hand yours fitted so perfectly in wasn’t his, it was taylor’s. none of this was ever his. they were all taylor’s. this was taylor’s body. this wasn’t his body.

this wasn’t his body. this wasn’t his body. it made him so viscerally aware of the fact that none of this is real. it made the shapeshifter’s skin crawl. that’s right, none of this is real. he’s not meant to be with you. it’s all a lie. he wasn’t the one who you’d choose to share these intimate moments with. he wasn’t the one you were so eager to see. he wasn’t the one you had feelings for. was your closeness always this restrictive? his breath quickened. the impostor wanted to tear his skin off. he can’t breathe. he stopped himself from gasping for air, not wanting to out himself to you. his mind raced. he didn’t want to be here. he wanted to be here, but he needed to be elsewhere. he can’t stay here. he needed to go. his pulse ran wild.

he can’t breathe.

he can’t breathe.

« taylor? »

he snapped out from whatever trance he was in and his eyes slid over to where you were. noticing the tension that had gathered in his arm, he quickly let go of your hands—unhanding you as if he were holding an intense heat which seared his hand, which was what your prolonged contact started feeling like. your touch had set his skin on fire, making it painful.  
he must’ve started gripping at them tighter than he meant, than what would’ve been comfortable, because you instinctively massaged your wrist as soon as he let go.

« y-yeah… i’m so sorry, i’m r-really sor—  
_he stammered, still trying to get his breathing, and voice, under control._  
– you look tired. _you lifted yourself off of him and he didn’t protest against the separation, letting his arm flop uselessly._ i think you should get some rest… _your voice was tinged with worry._ »

moving much too fast and much too slow for his liking, than what was considered normal, ivan stood up.

« u-uh, yeah… i think i’ll do just that… see you tomorrow... »

his voice didn’t sound confident. you didn’t seem to buy his promise. but too drained to rectify whatever had happened, the blond found his way out of the room.

what had happened to the peace that followed spending time with you? inhale and exhale, in and out. he needs to tell you the truth, and soon. everything will be ok, everything will be ok, everything will be ok. he can’t keep going like this, and it’s not fair for you either.

ivan stops in his tracks. his reflection on the glass pane beside him seemed to mock him. he frowns. he hates the person he sees in the mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to decide for yourself who that person in the mirror is lmao


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter do be monologue city,,,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have arthritis i would like a refund for my _**bones**_.

the hero knows he promised to see you again the next day, but it’s been a few days now since he has last seen you. you must be back at home by now. alone. were you okay? he can’t help but feel worried about you due to your limited mobility.  
guilt stings even more painfully now that he had calmed down. he has virtually subjected you to a prolonged radio silence after leaving abruptly. 

and he still needed to tell you the truth...

the hero had put off meeting you again, because it meant seeing you again. it meant he had to tell you the truth. it meant he’d no longer be able to meet you.

he chastised himself. what was expecting? really, what did he expect to happen? he berated himself, guilt clawing at him. what was he doing, impersonating your lover? he felt ill. he should’ve stopped meeting you after that campaign ended. but for reasons that escaped him, he continued. was it selfishness? was it greed? what pushed him to continue?  
whatever had happened, it wasn’t supposed to. he was just supposed to check in on you, make sure you’re getting on well, and move on in his life. he was supposed to stay neutral, indifferent, objective. you were just any other stranger that he would help throughout his career as a hero. but you had been so lovely and so unassuming that he must’ve…?  
without realising it, he had gotten himself too involved and was now in too deep, allowing his shameful self to form feelings for your kind and beautiful self. trying to distance himself from you to no avail, he found himself uselessly fighting feelings that have sprouted without his permission. he was fighting a losing battle, and a war that wasn’t tilting into his favour.  
he had hoped that these stubborn feelings would disappear, hopefully sooner rather than later, but it seemed that they refused to leave him alone.

the blond let out a harsh sigh. he’s noticed he has been doing that a lot, much more that usual. when it went well it went wonderfully, sublime; when it went badly it went awfully, dreadful.

he can’t keep going like this.

it’s not fair for you.

it’s not fair for him.

he can’t lead you on, and he can’t continue to delude himself.

each step he took to your residence were heavier than the last. listlessly, he dragged his feet. it had rained last night, making this walk even more unpleasant and gloomy. concluding what was both the slowest and fastest walk he had ever had the displeasure of taking, he lifted his gaze off of the pavement to take in your house. it was superficially identical to the other houses in the neighbourhood, but then again, houses in this district of the bronze stage often looked the same.  
it was a modest one-storey house, which felt anything but modest. it looked oppressive, intimidating. it terrified him. what was in store for him within those walls terrifying him further.

knowing that simply anticipating would do him no good, ivan shook his head, trying to shake his nervousness away, to no avail. he tried willing his legs to move, to get closer to your house, with no success. fixed in place, immobilised by dread.  
he stood idle, head turned down, in front of your home for what felt like an eternity, surprised that you hadn’t noticed the stranger in front of your property first. 

he sighed.

the pathetic puddle by his feet reflected an even more pathetic him. 

he stared silently at kotetsu’s reflection under him: « you’ve gotta tell them. they deserve to know. ». with a disappointed sigh, he gazed back at the small pool who gazed back with his disappointing face.  
he, “kotetsu”, had told himself to tell you the truth. but did he have the courage to?

no longer able to bear taylor’s silent judgement, ivan lifted his head and slowly climbed up the front steps to your front door.

the puddle, murky as it always was, remained as unbothered as it had always been.

his finger hovered over the doorbell. did he have the courage to? he bit his lips hard enough to draw blood. could he meet your eyes?  
momentarily retracting his hand, he resisted submitting to his anxiety and willed himself to push the bell.

ivan could hear the ringing echoing inside your walls.

and then silence.

one beat.

two beat.

then another.

were you not home?

you always had very quiet steps, he told himself. everything is ok.

his knee jerk reaction to the prolonged silence was to take it as a sign that today wasn’t the day. a message from a power above telling him that he can postpone it for another day… whenever that other day was. his usual reaction would be to take this as an opportunity to throw in the towel and go home. but for you (and for himself), he’ll fight his impulse to cower away.

but still… this silence was slightly concerning. 

had something happened to you?

the hero’s mind jumped through different conclusions to rationalise your lack of response.

maybe you went out…

maybe you weren’t awake…

what if you had hurt yourself and couldn’t get bac—

he reached out to ring the doorbell yet again, but stopped halfway as the door creaked open.

« how can i help y— taylor? » you had sounded as surprised to see him as he was to you.

oh. you were ok. he breathed out in relief. you were ok.

« please, come in, _you offered, moving out of the way._ sorry to make you wait, i wasn’t… i wasn’t expecting to see you… sorry about the mess… _you mumbled._ »

the hero gulped, fighting the fear that rose up within him from hearing the door click closed behind him. he can’t run away. no going back now: he had to tell you the truth.  
taking his mind off of his nerves, he decided to look around and observe the interior of your house. you said “mess” but the house is more or less in order, unless you were referring to the few stacks of books that littered your house. still... he struggled to call it a mess, as the odd misplaced books here and there didn’t even feel out place within your humble abode: it blended with the other decor into the stylish deep green walls and light brown tiles.  
the only thing he could qualify as being messy would be the light covering of dust that was slowly gathering on some of the furniture’s surface, along with the few papers and knickknacks strewn about, but they were out of the way enough that nothing ever seemed cluttered.

to his delight, the curios have all been of japanese origins, from the hand fans (« an _ōgi_! » he noted excitedly.) to the rough stacks of woodblock prints (« where did they get so many _ukiyo-e_ prints? » he asked himself.). in fact, closer inspection would suggest that quite a few of the furnishings decorating your house were japanese in nature: the tapestry hung on your wall (he was sure those were called a _tenugui_.), the forgotten matcha tea set on the kitchen counter (« there was even a _chasen_?! »), and the japanese pottery and porcelain safely tucked into a glass cupboard (he wonders if he could get the opportunity to use the _hagi ware chawan_ amongst the set.).  
he had to stop himself from literally beaming in excitement and dashing to ogle the wares. who would’ve known you’d have such a collection in your house? he needed to calm down, lest he attracted your suspicion, and swallowed his bubbling elation. 

he followed your lead to wherever you were walking back to, inquisitively taking in his surroundings, distracting his mind from his previous anxieties.

« i, uh… no one’s been home since i went to the hospital. _you walked back towards your open living room._ and i’ve kinda been putting off cleaning. _you laughed._  
– don’t worry about it… _he assured you, still taking in this unknown territory._ »

briefly, he let his attention back to you and to where you walked: to your open living room, which was connected to your kitchen. further to the side, he could see the stairs that led to your suspended bedroom. it seemed that this house had more or less the same make and architecture as tiger’s apartment, though with drastically different decor, he noted.  
though with more than less difficulty, you managed to get around your house just fine. despite your pronounced limp you continued at a regular, albeit slowed, pace. your gait was sometimes slowed by the fact that you sometimes had to hang on some of the fittings to maintain your balance and ivan had to fight the urge to rush over and help you walk.

you probably wouldn’t like for him to encroach on your newfound autonomy, he figured.

after finally reaching the living room, you had carefully sat yourself down on the floor in front of the coffee table.  
noticing the crafting papers and shavings surrounding where you sat, he thoughtlessly asked:  
« were you making something? _no wonder you took a bit to respond._ i’m sorry for interrupting you...  
– mhm, i’m just making _menko_ cards. _you elaborated as you carefully positioned your impaired leg._ and it’s alright, you couldn’t have known.  
– _menko_ cards? _his interest was piqued._  
– yeah, just thought it would be fun, _you shrugged._ wanna help?  
– sure! _he answered delightedly, failing to hide the eagerness in his voice._ i mean, why not…  
_you just laughed at his childlike enthusiasm_.  
– i’d really appreciate it you could help me cut out the picture, _you asked._ »

he eased himself down next to you, trying his hardest not to appear bothered by your proximity. everything is ok. he’ll help you in this last activity. because it had interested him. because he wanted to treasure the last moments he got to spend with you. the very last. he doesn’t like the finality of that, but the truth had to be said.  
guilt stung like an open wound whenever he remembered that he was lying to you. he wouldn’t be mad if you condemned him for “exploiting” you. if he were to tell you the truth there was no way you’d forgive him, much less continue to seek out his affection. your resentment would be well deserved, even if the thought of being disliked by you hurt him.

his despair grew as he thought of the aftermath. it would leave him heartbroken, but what about you? you would’ve been deceived, not once but twice: by both he and your former lover.  
he really didn’t think this decision through, did he? this was a selfish and cruel scheme to begin with. just a misguided attempt to assist someone who didn’t even asked for his assistance.  
he doesn’t want to doubt your resilience, but surely, if he came clean you’d be deeply saddened and devastated again… he didn’t want to be the reason you felt lost again and returned to being miserable. he didn’t want to be the cause of your melancholy, the cause of a relapse.  
but that was exactly what he was going to cause you, wasn’t it? he was the cause of your grief and strife.

if this ended with him broken-hearted, he’d end up shattering whatever had remained of yours and leave you inconsolable. 

this was a mistake. he’d caused you more pain than solace. this was a mistake. lies and sweet words aren’t what would have saved you. they weren’t what you needed. this was a mistake.

what would he even say? a “sorry” wouldn’t suffice. not even the sincerest apology would fix this. those words would only hurt you more.

he made his bed, now he had to lay in it. if only he never roped you into this. 

spirit down again, he sighed and looked upon the table to tackle his newly appointed objective. a sharp contrast from the rest of your orderly home, the table was cluttered with random bits of paper and cardboard (both circular and rectangular, of various sizes), different crafting materials like scissors and box cutters, and hero related paraphernalia.

« people don’t usually make _menko_ cards… _he muttered._ why not just buy the hero cards ( _‘my own are still collecting dust aren’t they…’_ )? _he quizzed, flipping around a finished card of himself.  
despite his doubting tone, he carefully placed the work back down and got to cutting the few images off of few magazine pages._  
– that would be too easy. _you shrugged_. besides, i was planning to gift them to my niece. the bugger has bought everything i could find, and well… afford, in the shops. _you admitted._  
– that makes sense… _he replied, focusing on the task at hand._  
– the rascal loves all of this hero stuff but she absolutely loves sky high, _you chuckled_. it’s all she talks about. it’s like she lives and breathes the guy, said she wanted to be a hero and help people like he did. »  
you pretended to be annoyed, but he could hear the fondness in your voice. even though he’s supposed to start distancing himself from you, to start preparing himself for the upcoming heartbreak, he can’t help but continue to be endeared by you.

this was all so… incredibly mundane. everything just felt so incredibly ordinary. your interactions, the things you did together. it’s like it’s always been this way. the things you spoke about, and even the silence that you would share. there was always a certain comfort to be had together. it’s like this was normal, and he was the one you were always with. it’s like this was a routine.  
who knows, maybe in a different world, one where you two had met through different circumstances, maybe the two of you would’ve gotten together, he mused. but he had already ruined any chance of that he concluded. maybe had your lives gone a different way… maybe in another lifetime. 

maybe this life wasn’t the one he was supposed to meet you in.

you sighed, straightening your back, before curling over your work once more:  
« sky high’s power is wind manipulation right? _you pursed your lips._ if i had that kind of power, i’d just spend most of my day flying to places. can you imagine? never having to put up with traffic? _you rambled thoughtlessly._ » 

unbeknownst to you, ivan’s mind wandered back to a few years ago when he learnt that without the involvement of his custom made jetpacks sky high’s power could only allow him to float, and fought to stifle the laugh that crept up his throat.  
oblivious, you asked, sounding half-curious half-bored as you continued to abuse the material under your hands:  
« hey love, if you could have any next power in the world, what would you pick? »

ivan tilted his head towards you, and let his hand drop back down on the carpeted floor.  
change his ability for a different one? any kind at all?  
he took the time to ponder it, seriously considering the question. of course, he admired kotetsu’s and barnaby’s hundred power, but could he really utilise that correctly, what with the constraints? what about edward’s power? he had an actual chance to be a hero with his ability… or even lunatic and his fearsome control over his devastating blue flames. if he could use that for good? to help people? there were too many different abilities, each one more capable than the one he actually possessed. 

« hmm… i guess… anything that’s useful; something that can be used to help others. _he answered truthfully._ i’m sorry, that must’ve been really vague. _he laughed nervously.  
you shook your head with a smile._  
– that’s very noble of you, _you praised as you continued working._ truthfully, i envy your integrity. _you confessed._  
– mm? why is that? what next power would you have chosen? _he inquired._  
– oh, like if i had a second next power? _you replied absentmindedly, focused on a particularly stubborn piece of cardboard which refused to cut._ »

wait. did he hear that right?

« are… are you a next? » he asked, sounding something like perturbed. 

« hmm? »

« is there something you’r… »

there wasn’t any need to elaborate: your face had said it all.  
like a criminal caught red-handed, your expression was the perfect picture of shock. he would even think you were scandalised. you pressed your lips into a thin line, eyebrows knitted in dismay.

« must’ve be a slip of the tongue... not a big deal… » you tried to laugh, neither of you amused. « it’s really nothing noteworthy or important— » you started on a lie, but grimaced slightly.

catching unto your tic, he pleaded, voice serious:  
« tell me the truth… please… »

you shifted in you seat uncomfortably, eyes dashing across your room looking at everything except his eyes. you were deeply aware of the eyes laser-focused on you, locked onto you to the point where you swore it could bore through you.  
you sighed and resigned yourself to telling him the truth. the entire truth, and nothing but the truth. it’s not like you could lie to his face:  
« before i tell you, do you promise not to leave before i finished explaining everything? _you opened your mouth and closed them again._ you’re free to hate me all you want, but please don’t… _you turned away and bit your lips._ » 

he didn’t know what to anticipate. was your ability that alarming? he nodded, preparing himself for… whatever you were going to reveal to him.

« it’s honestly nothing incredible… _you started._ i couldn’t be a hero with it… i swear. it’s... _you paused, as you tried to find the right words to divulge your ability. the right words to explain it clearly without making it into a fuss._

lie detection, _you said, plainly, without much relish or fanfare._ um... my ability only allows me to see through lies, or anything meant to deceive: lies, half-truths, manipulations, omission of detail… _you hesitated._ illusions.

i guess, neither of you ever noticed… they, um, taylor, didn’t know either… »

it’s shocking how easily this fabricated world crumbled.

you knew? what do you mean?? ivan had sat facing you, frozen in place. by fear, confusion, apprehension. he felt embarrassed, ashamed. were you just playing along to spare his feelings? he really should’ve told you earlier. look at where his inaction led him.

he should’ve been the one who came clean, instead of forcing you to tell the truth on his behalf.

« how long…? _half wanting and not wanting to know the truth. he had a guess. if what you had said was true then..._ how long have you known? »

still not facing him, you cast your gaze downwards, clasping your hands together:  
« since the first time… when i saw you, i knew you weren’t the real taylor and just assumed it was you, origami. what with your involvement during the campaign and all...  
i’m guessing i’ve assumed correctly? 

_the hero sat motionless, but made no attempt to disprove your assumption. if what you had said about your ability was true, then there would be no point to lying._

at first i really… didn’t understand why you kept visiting me, as my former partner no less. i still don’t, for that matter… though i’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have good intentions.  
i knew it was you, so i was a bit standoffish and suspicious when we first met… i thought you wanted to take advantage of me while i was helpless to stroke your own ego, or conduct some sort of ploy to boost your own popularity. i’m... really sorry for assuming something like that about you… i’m not sure where i got that idea as you never seemed to be that kind of person...  
you had been so sincere when i asked why you kept visiting me and kept pretending… well not pretending, you seemed to have genuinely cared about me, that i guess i started to drop my guard and trusted you.

_your eyes were tinged with a sadness and confusion that he wished to get rid of, but it was no longer his place. it never was his place. you shook your head._

i’m really sorry. i really truly am for not letting you know sooner instead of letting it go this far…  
at first i… i played along because i didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or feel humiliated by revealing that i could see through your disguise, and i wanted to wait for you to come clean first. but i guess… somewhere along the lines you’ve become a part of my routine and i’ve become quite fond of spending my time with you. of you. _you quickly added._  
i know that i was going through a vulnerable moment of my life, which may have made me too trusting, but i really mean it: i’m really happy that i met you that day.  
i know you were just playing your role and that nothing ever meant anything… and i’m aware that you could’ve just… up and left whenever you got tired of dealing with my crap. even though it’s all fake, i’ve really enjoyed the time we got to spent together and i’m really happy i got to be with you. i’m really happy for being able to get to know you as a person, origami. »

you tried to smile to convey your gratefulness, but it came out wrong. it wavered and was visibly bittersweet. as you said that, your voice held such remorsefulness that baffled him. it was his fault in the first place, trapping the both of you in a punishment of his own creation. he should be the one apologising to you, he should be the one begging you for forgiveness as he explained himself. he should be the one who told you the truth.  
you had every reason to feel disgusted by him and hate him, and yet, here you were putting yourself down for his sake.

you were slightly surprised when you heard him respond, his voice no longer bearing that confident tone and smooth accent that you had recognised to be taylor’s. instead it was the boyish voice you had come to know was origami cyclone’s.  
but this time, it was devoid of any energy and lacked the boisterous intonation that often accompanied his words:  
« no, i- i’m the one who should apologise: i should’ve been the one to tell you the truth… if anyone should feel angry or betrayed, it should be you… i was the one who decided to set this all up after all…

_after facing you, it was his turn to look away, avoiding your gaze._

i didn’t mean let it go this far … lying to you to this extent and for this long… but of course, i allowed it to get out of hand…  
i’m sorry, i should’ve told you sooner, if i ever made you uncomfortable at any point during this whole mess i’m really sorry. i... it was stupid. you never reached out for help and i’m sure you would’ve gotten through this just fine by yourself.  
my intent was never to manipulate you for my own gain or to use you… i had wanted to help you, naively thinking that i could fix you… it was selfish of me to just force my way into your life and help you, even though you never asked for mine. it was foolish to think i could just… pull the wool over your eyes like that, and it was unfair to you.

_the blond considered stopping there, allowing a tangible silence, even more oppressive than the tension, to invade the room. should he tell you? should he…?  
he tried his best to summon a renewed determination. it was high time that he was honest to you, he told himself. honest to you. honest to himself, as well._

i suppose it’s pointless to lie to you, so i’ll tell you the truth: i... i— the circumstances in which we met were less than ideal, and i wished that we could’ve gotten to know each other differently, but… during the course of… whatever it is we had, i had stupidly hoped that the closeness i felt between us wasn’t imagined, and that you felt the same affection for me as i did for you.

 _despite his fear, he dared himself to turn back to where you had sat, bracing himself for what your eyes held. will it be repulsion? hostility? regret? vilification?  
he was scared, but even so he faced them._

my appearance may have not been mine, but my actions were. you’re free to doubt the validity of my words, but… even though i was pretending to be someone else i- my feelings are true. »

finding himself surprised for the umpteenth time that day, you fully turned to face him. you didn’t seem to be reacting badly, but you weren’t reacting much at all. you simply sat there, stunned at his display of honesty. were you combing through his words to detect any possible lies? he figured he deserved that level of distrust, after doing nothing but lie to you. he knows he shouldn’t feel so relieved when he wasn’t even in the clear yet, but at least you weren’t reacting badly and he was infinitely grateful for your seemingly infinite graciousness.

finally, you seemed to have recovered your voice:  
« i believe you. »

three words. three simple words that managed to lift all the weight off of his shoulders. you believed him. he didn’t deserve your forgiveness, and yet you gave it to him freely.

« could i see… no, nevermind. _you had retracted your hesitant request._ i’ve already made you go through too much for my sake. i’m grateful for being able to see you, regardless of who you look like. »

he shook his head, relenting:  
« you deserve to know the truth. it’s the least i could do after everything i made you endure… »  
with a blue flash, “taylor” disappeared. in their place was a young man with a mop of unruly blond hair. he fidgeted nervously with his hands under the baggy purple varsity jacket he wore, which coupled with his hunched posture, made him look smaller than he probably was. his striking and alluring purple eyes seemed to be permanently locked into an expression of worry and refused to meet your eyes.  
« i’m sorry… i’m probably way off from what you expected... » he muttered, dejectedly.

not expecting any sort of positive reaction for his underwhelming appearance, he turned his amethyst eyes elsewhere.  
he waited for your reaction, anticipating the worst. always anticipating the worst. 

in one swift motion, you reached out to embrace him tightly. his body tensed up, having been caught off guard by the sudden affectionate gesture. his hands dropped from their hovering around your form as his wide eyes ran wildly across the room before they returned to settle on you. confusion laced his voice as he softly called out your name. he didn't know what to do with his arms as you wrapped your arms around him ever so gently. should he return… your gesture? but his arms laid uselessly next to him, still too stunned by your response.

yet again, he felt that same tingly feeling where you held him. the warmth that you brought to him reawakened those butterflies, making him feel light and fuzzy.  
is this ok? is feeling like this ok? is liking you ok? 

« stop saying stuff like that about yourself, origami… you keep underselling yourself. you’re incredible, you’re kind, and yet you’re humble. _your voice was soft as you spoke._ i wasn’t just waxing poetics when i praised you, not just lip service to appeal to you because i could see behind your trick. i meant it when i said i admired you. even before i met you, i’ve admired you. »

you pulled away, if only to place your hands on either side of his face and to lift his eyes, making him face you, properly face you, for the first time in a long time. he was taken aback by how gentle and soft your gaze was. who were those kind eyes for? surely not him. he didn’t deserve such honest adoration. there was no reason for admiration, contentment, or appreciation to have their eyes on him.  
and yet, those compassionate eyes continue to gaze back at him. your beautiful eyes continued to look back at his own dull eyes.

was this really ok after everything he put you through? was it really ok to derive so much comfort from your hold?

you hoped your continued eye contact conveyed your sincerity.

« origami, you’re one of the most selfless and brave person i’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing, and now i’ve come to learn that you’re handsome to boot. you never cease to amaze me in the best way possible, and im so so grateful that you’re still here ori—  
_finally waking from his daze and regaining some semblance of control over his limbs, he moved his arm to return your hold and wrapped them closely around you. he allowed the warmth he felt to fully consume him and buried his face in the crook of your neck, trying to get as physically close to you as possible._  
– ivan. _he whispered in your ear, almost afraid._  
– ivan…? _you echoed._  
– … my name is ivan.  
– is that so? then... thank you, ivan. thank you so so much. thank you for being here for me. thank you for everything. »

he knows now with certainty that he adores the way his name sounded with your voice. he couldn’t see your face from the position you were in, but he could imagine your captivating smile. the same one he adored so much. your careful hands had traveled to his head, stroking his hair, playing with an errant lock, and he adores your touch.

the small kindling that you had lit turned into a newfound courage that consumed him like wildfire.  
this unwanted and foolish adoration he held for you had proven itself to be phoenix, renewing itself as heartfelt and profound.

if you had allowed it, then he’s sure it was ok to be like this. to like being with you.

he adored you. and he hopes you adored him in kind.

« i— »

as he was about to say something, his communicator beeped relentlessly and he has never hated that sound more in his life until now. taken slightly by surprise, you both let go of each other and looked confused at each other—though he was intimately aware of where you rested your hands when you let go of each other: one on his shoulder, the other one on his hip. the latter of which he thoughtlessly gripped with his free hand, keeping it in place, not willing to part from you quite yet. not willing to let go quite yet.  
he whipped his right hand up, fumbling between taking this call and apologising to you for having interrupted what had been a very pleasant moment, the unexpected call flustering him. up until now, it had never annoyed him quite to this extent. he grumbled something you didn’t quite catch. his gaze flicked back and forth, from you, to his communicator, back to you. 

he needed to take this, he needed to be there for agnes’ briefing. it was time sensitive, but so was the thing he wanted to tell you. he was torn: he needed to tell you something. he needed to answer before his employer forcefully answered his call for him and intruded.

« i… »

the indecision was clear in his eyes, so instead you made the choice for him:  
« it’s alright, go. »

you let your hand trail up his jaw, and placed it there. his attention was immediately brought back to you and the pleasant buzzing that often followed your touch. you smiled as you felt his hand follow your own and moved to rest it atop yours. 

« i’ll be cheering for you, love. »

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might fuck around and make a fluffy sequel who knows

**Author's Note:**

> *lower-case letters are intentional  
> *english is not my first language--i apologise for any mistakes i failed to correct  
> *i write dialogues slightly differently than what you'd usually find because that is what i'm used to using in the french system--i apologise in advance for any confusion i may cause  
> *like my work? consider leaving a comment or kudo // buying me a coffee // checking out my other stuff


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